The Waning Flower
by XXsKelEtOrXX
Summary: What if Merope Gaunt had survived Tom's birth? Rowling herself said he would have turned out very differently. Rating will probably go up. Contains moderate child abuse, violence, and language. Author is open to ideas. R&R, por favor.
1. Prologue

AN: The first actual prose I have posted on this site. Any plot inconsistencies are all mine.

Disclaimer: Only my ideas belong to me. The rest is JKR's.

Summary: What if Merope Gaunt had been given one more Galleon for her locket, and survived Tom's birth? Would he have turned out any differently?

December 1926

Caractus Burke kept shop long after the other Knockturn Alley merchants left their merchandise and returned to hungry babies and waifish wives, taking their meager profits with them. The Ministry had recently put out a new decree that specified that "any wizard or witch caught in possession of a dark object with the intent to sell or use it will be banned from business and prosecuted." Some salesmen whose products consisted of only dark materials were forced out of business by a dwindling trade. Others tried to revert to more socially acceptable forms of business, but failed miserably. The only business available in Knockturn Alley was dark business, and nearly every customer was afraid of being sent to Azkaban. However, there were always those who needed the money that a pawnshop like Borgin and Burke's could provide. Those were the customers that Caractus Burke stayed open for.

No ministry official was fool enough to venture into the Alley after sundown. Even armed with a wand, an Auror could be overtaken. The example of Demetrius Cowwel was often used. Cowwel was the leader of the Aurors back in the day, and even though he was a bit cracked in the mind, he was dangerously sharp-witted. He took it upon himself to "scourgify London of the vermin that inhabit it." A mob of vicious shopowners and customers killed him and left his head on the street sign. Ever since the Cowwel incident, the ministry would only pry into business on Knockturn Alley in broad daylight.

Of course, it was also dangerous for a wealthy wizard like Burke to leave his door unlocked at the time when the streets began to run with blood. No other shopkeeper dared. Burke was no fool, however. No wizard with a valuable Dark object would take it to his store while the sun was shining. He could be mugged by any greedy wizard prowling the streets, or worse, captured by the Aurors. The best business always took place well after sunset. Why, just last week, old Nicolade Stobbs sold him a miraculous potion that would cause the face of the drinker to implode. A magnificent deal! Old Nicolade only wanted six galleons for a potion that could be sold for forty. The old man had come into his shop shortly after midnight in his usual cautious manner. No matter how senile he became, old Nicolade would never make a bargain while Aurors were about.

And last month Ada Simms had come in petrified of being caught with her grandmother's dark amulet. She was willing to part with it for a handful of sickles. Burke resold it the next day to an odd-looking foreign wizard for fifteen galleons.

To Burke, it seemed a bit odd that on Christmas Eve he had nearly no business. Usually the idea of having family overrun his household was enough to make a stingy wizard sell. And if a witch was running low on money, she certainly wouldn't think twice before stopping in. After all, her children would be heartbroken if there weren't any presents under the tree.

He peered out of the shop's small window, watching for a potential customer. Burke was quite attuned to wizardkind. He could nearly always tell when a passerby had a valuable object with them. There was something in the way that they walked, kind of hunched over, like they were trying to protect it from physical harm. And if they were acknowledged in the street, they would immediately assume a defensive pose.

His competitors said that Caractus Burke was a magician. The owner of Scrintch's Pawnshop down the Alley would tell anyone who would listen that "Burke'll take your money without even think about it. If he tells you it's worth five galleons, it's probably worth fifty." Of course, this was true, but Burke had a certain allure and charm to his customers. His credentials seemed to speak for him. He was the only wizard on Knockturn Alley to still be making a decent profit after the new Ministry law. This was not due to his fairness and likeability, as certain wizards were wont to think, but instead due to his scamming technique.

Burke briefly entertained the idea that Julius Scrintch had finally succeeded in drawing away his customers, and then shook it off. Scrintch had half the customers that he used to. Highly improbable.

As Burke watched, a lone figure wandered down the street without even a wand drawn for protection. Any shopowner on the bordering Diagon Alley would have gladly opened their door and let the stranger in for tea, but Burke was much too wary. This could be a new Auror technique. No one, least of all one of the Alley's usual type would suspect a beggar as law enforcement. However, Burke was not one of the usual Alley scum. He focused on the lowlife as it made its way toward his shop.

* * *

Merope Gaunt was so hungry she felt nauseous. It had been at least four days without a meal. Scrounging in Muggle rubbish bins was all she was capable of doing now. Depression had taken its toll on her, sapping her of her magical ability. She had no means of making money either; no one would hire a single soon-to-be-mother in her condition. This was the first time she had entered the magical world since she married Tom Riddle. A pureblood descendent of Salazar Slytherin was left to fend for herself on the streets of London.

When Merope was younger, she used to wait until Marvolo would pass out drunk, and then sneak out of the house into the Little Hangleton library. For such a withdrawn personality, Merope had a wonderful imagination. She could sit for hours on the floor in the Children's Library and read fairy tales. Unlike most wizard children, she had never been interested in magical fairy tales. Marvolo called her a squib. What was the point in pretending that one day she would have a wand and go to Hogwarts when becoming a princess and living happily ever after was more likely?

Cinderella was Merope's favorite story. She thought that the heroine was just like her: forced to serve her family, but patiently awaiting the day where she would break free and live her own life. But Merope knew she didn't have a fairy godmother; squibs had to make it for themselves in the Wizarding world. No one would help a squib like her.

She would never have left Tom. When she was sixteen years old, she fell in love with him. She owl-ordered several books that she figured could help her win his heart. For the first time in her life, she tried to dabble in magic. To pay for the books, she magically stole money from a passing muggle, and did the Currency Conversion spell she had read up on. It actually worked. Merope was overjoyed with the twenty galleons she now had and her burgeoning magical ability.

Non-magical workings would never help her hook Tom Riddle. Merope was plain-faced, even ugly. She lived in a shack with a criminal brother and a drunkard father. No rich young man like Tom would ever choose her over a beautiful society girl.

Love potions. In Merope's opinion, only a magical means like a love potion would work. The one she choose was incredibly potent; strong enough to make Tom love her for love, as long as she could keep forcing him to take it. On a hot summer's day last year, Merope had partially emptied the vial in a glass of water she offered Tom.

Only after Marvolo and Morfin were gone did she finally have the nerve. Even being a semi-capable witch, she was still frightened of them.

Within four weeks Tom and Merope were married and enamored with each other. The elder Riddles could make no sense of it. Wasn't he making plans to propose to Cecilia just last month? Merope deserted the wizarding world and devoted all of her time to her husband, trying desperately to pretend he actually loved her.

And here she was, a year later. Pregnant, with no husband to help her. Merope didn't even like to think about Tom leaving her. The betrayal was too deep. She didn't slip it into his drink for a week, just to see what would happen. She told herself that at the first sign that he didn't love her, she would put him back on it. He gave her no such sign. Seven days after she last gave it to him, he left. She came home one day from the market and he was gone without a trace.

Merope became nearly suicidal. The small amount of magical prowess she had discovered deserted her. She was left with a baby in her womb, the last remnant of the man she loved. Her heart still ached for Tom. The romantic things he had said to her; the lovely flowers he brought home to grace their dinner table; the chocolates that he fed to her. She always knew that it had been an illusion, but she refused to admit it to herself. In her deluded mind, a small ray of hope whispered to her that he did love her, and he always would.

Knockturn Alley was the one place she could go to. Her father's locket, Slytherin's locket, was her last possession. Before she died, this would be one last slap in his face. When he returned from Azkaban, his house would be a shambles, and his most prized possession sold to the seediest trader she could find. Marvolo would never torment her again. Marvolo would never torment _anyone _again, if she could help it.

The locket dangled around her skinny neck as she turned the corner into the dark alleyway. While Diagon Alley had a perpetually happy environment, its neighboring street reminded Merope of the nightmares that haunted her sleep. Rats scurried about in the shadows, while dark eyes watched her from barred windows. What was this creature doing, disrupting the silence?

The one building that had any sign of life in it was Caractus Burke's pawnshop. Merope had heard much about the dealer from Marvolo. Many years ago, Burke had cheated her father out of a hundred galleons for a dark object. Marvolo never forgave him. What could possibly hurt him more than this betrayal? His daughter practically giving away a priceless locket.

Merope giggled at her last act of treachery, and then opened the shop door.

* * *

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	2. Prologue Part Two

AN: Chapter Two is finally up! I think it's kinda funny how I spent weeks and weeks slaving over the first part, but in two days of hard work, I have new words to put forth. I guess I'm really getting into the story. I cannot stress enough how much I want you to review this! I am one of those writers who needs feedback like a fish needs water. If you have a heart, leave me a line! Enjoy Chapter Two!

Disclaimer: My meager little plot is all that belongs to me. Everything else I am borrowing from JKR. I WILL TRY TO RETURN IT ALL IN ONE PIECE!

Prologue Part Two:

The burdensome door opened with a creak. The shop was instantly shrouded in darkness, Burke's silent alarm activated. Merope tried not to scream. The dark brought back such horrible memories for her. For now, she must suppress them. Her last chance was here; her life was at an end, and if she turned to ice, the nineteen years she had spent on this Earth would have been for nothing. Still, her overburdened mind could retain itself no longer.

* * *

_One Year Ago: _

"_Ah, Merope," Tom sighed, as she ran her hands through his silky hair. Tom never seemed to notice how flat faced and ugly she was. He constantly told her she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. One day, he would truly love her. Maybe even now he hid his true love for her behind the façade of a Romeo and Juliet type dilemma. His parents did not know of their secret meetings every night. They would lose each other forever if word ever leaked out. The few who had seen them together in Little Hangleton were in an uproar already. Cecilia had slapped Merope across the face. _

"_Tom, do you love me?" Merope asked coyly, pretending this was the man she loved, instead of the result of her own trickery. _

"_More than anything, darling," he murmured, brushing his lips against her cheek. "I've been meaning to ask…I mean, if you want to-"_

_Hope soared through her, like the tropical breeze through an abandoned glade, warming her spirit and unthawing her heart. "Yes, Tom?" she said. _

_He sank down on bended knee, taking her pasty palms in his strong tanned hands. His eyes reflected her adoration and longing, the face of a man who has everything he wants with him; a man that could never be happier._

"_Merope Gaunt, I love you with all of my heart. I could never live without you. I'm kind of nervous, since we've only known each other a few weeks, but I know my heart is here with you. Will you be my wife, and stay with me forever?"_

_Merope swayed, nearly pitching herself into Tom. This plan of hers—it was working so well. Her family no longer tormented her, and she had the most beautiful man in the world on his knees before her, asking for her hand in marriage and holding out a ring._

_Oh, what a majestic work of art he presented to her. The diamonds sparkled and glimmered in the bright sunlight suddenly streaming through the window. Tom's hopeful eyes reflected the glorious shine of the jewels he slipped onto her finger. Merope tried to regain the use of speech, but mere words could not express her happiness. _

_She threw herself into Tom's waiting arms, whispering to him alone, and then shouting it to the world, "Yes, Tom, I'll be yours forever."_

Merope threw the hood off her face, ready to confront her demons.

* * *

Caractus Burke was highly amused when the person stepped into his shop. The lights died suddenly, and the creature gave a pitiful whimper. Not a high and mighty Auror after all, eh? Just some stupid little thing that was scared of the dark. Burke quickly lit a candle, shining some needed light on the thing in the cloak.

It pulled its hood back, revealing the wan, pallid face of a starving young woman. Just a girl, really. She couldn't have had more than days left to live, with the state she was in. Her waxen skin was stretched over her skeleton. She obviously hadn't had a decent meal for months, if not longer.

Her eyes didn't even hold a small trace of hope. The girl knew she was dying. Perhaps she even wanted to die. She held her lost hopes and broken dreams like the burden of the Titan Atlas of myth.

Her skeletal fingers reached into her robe, pulling out a dirty relic. While the object was befouled with grime, dust, and even worse matter, Burke still caught the glint of pure gold. His eye was perfect.

Before she spoke, the girl peeled the cloak from her tired limbs, revealing her condition. The child was heavily pregnant; Burke wondered how she could not have given birth yet.

When the girl opened her mouth, she rasped, "I have Slytherin's locket, sir."

Burke held back a derisive snort. A poor little witch living on the streets who just happens to have one of the most valuable Dark artifacts of all time? It was more likely that nifters would fly. The gold was genuine, though. Burke snatched it from the girl's hands.

When he saw the serpentine 'S', Burke's breath caught in his throat. Impossible. This could not be. It _was _the real thing. Not even the most thorough of con artists could replicate the detail, the exquisite quality. This locket was absolutely priceless.

When Burke's senses returned to him, he wagered that the girl had no idea of the value of this locket. Yes, she knew it was Slytherin's, but to trade it at a pawnshop was a mistake that not even the most foolish of wizardkind made. This girl was either off her rocker, or she had been dropped on her head as a child. With the stupidity she was displaying, it could have been both.

With his suave charm, he could have this treasure all to himself in minutes.

Merope saw the look in the man's eyes the second he laid hands on her locket. If this was the same man who had swindled Marvolo, he would definitely try to do the same to her. After a moment, Burke composed himself and shot her a look of pity.

"My dear girl," he said, with compassion filling his tones, "You have been misinformed greatly. I hope you didn't pay much for this, for it is a fake." No matter how good of a con artist this man was, nothing could conceal the greed inside him. Merope didn't bother to argue with him. He knew the full value of her father's possession, but he would never pay full price for it. It was much better to pretend she was ignorant, and leave with what she could.

Caractus Burke continued, "It is a rather well done replica, however. I could offer you ten galleons for it."

He obviously assumed that a poor starving girl would never even consider turning her nose up at a deal like this. He was only half-right, though. Merope wanted to be rid of the curse the locket had put on her life. Ever since Marvolo had forced her to wear it, her life had been miserable.

* * *

_Ten Years Ago:_

"_Come here, girl." _

_Marvolo's words were harsh, but not as harsh as what would happen if Merope did approach him. She wasn't even worthy of being called his daughter. She was lucky he didn't call her a squib as he usually did. Insulting her inability to perform even the simplest magical feat burned deeply in her heart. Her wand might have been a twig off a tree for all that she could do with it. _

_After her mother died, Merope was on her own. Four years ago, the pox had taken the one person who had ever cared about the Gaunt girl. From the age of five, she was her father and brother's servant. Only the most menial of tasks were allotted to the squib. Cooking and cleaning she could barely handle. Morfin threatened to kill his nine year old sister on a daily basis these days. _

_Marvolo was different from Morfin, though. He went beyond threats. If Merope disappointed his expectations, he would cruelly smack her across the face and scream insults at her until she could get back on her feet. _

_After years of this brutal punishment, she was somewhat used to being hit by her father. It was his verbal insults that left deep unhealing wounds inside her. When he summoned her to his side, she knew in her soul that something horrible was about to happen to her. _

_She summoned as much self-control as she possibly could, willing her feet to stay where they were. But if her years of subservience taught her anything, it was that she should never disobey a direct order from her master. Things would only be worse for her if she did that. _

_She wondered dimly if he would kill her, just like he said he ought to. The threat made little sense, though. If she was dead, her father certainly wouldn't do any of the tasks she had to perform, and she just couldn't picture Morfin being put in her place. No, he wouldn't kill her. But there were things much worse than death._

_He shouted once more, even though she was unwillingly being herded by her own self to the filthy couch where her father waited for her. _

_She stood in front of him, arms at her sides. If he were to hit her now, she wouldn't raise a hand in her own defense. She had been taught well. The perfect domestic servant. _

_Marvolo reached forward and grabbed her by her lank hair, dragging her face to his. He bared his teeth in a feral grin as her eyes dilated in terror. His few remaining teeth were yellowed and his breath stank of rotten meat. He reminded her of the wolves in the fairy tales she used to read. When the princess was least expecting it, the fearsome beast would leap out and attempt to slash her throat with its terrible claws. In the stories, the princess was always saved by a handsome prince. Merope knew that no such prince would ever save her. She was ugly. She was absolutely hideous. No dashing young man would stoop to save her._

_Marvolo reached into his pocket with the hand that wasn't holding her captive to collect something from his pocket. She was afraid to know what it was, but she couldn't have looked even if she had wanted to. Marvolo had her in a death grip. She didn't even dare to whimper. Even a small noise could send him into a temper. _

_He waved the object, something on a chain, in front of her face. Her eyes tried to focus on it. This was a locket. It was—_

"_Slytherin's, girl. Slytherin's own locket."_

_He jerked it over her head. For the first time in her life, she put all of her effort into fighting him. The very second the locket touched her skin, she felt the evil prescence inside. This was a horrible thing, meant to cause dispair in whoever touched it. It was cursed. _

_Marvolo didn't even strike her. Her nails raked down his face, but he just laughed and released her. She tried to take the terrible thing off of her, but it felt like it was glued to her skin. Merope screamed in rage and shock. _

_Marvolo laughed until the sound was etched into her. The low chuckle, the raucous snorts, all of it. This locket, it didn't even matter that the greatest wizard of all time had worn it; this heirloom was cursed. She wouldn't be able to take it off unless another wizard or witch would willingly decide to take the burden from her hands. _

_No one would._

Not until now, anyway. She couldn't believe she had never thought of it before. To be rid of two birds with one stone. The dispair that had taken over her life for the past ten years, that had clouded her relationship with her husband, that had brought her to the miserable place she was now.

The curse of the necklace, she had decided, was that it took a person's greatest desire and greatest fear, and made them into one thing. Merope wanted to be free of Marvolo and Morfin more than she wanted anything else. She was also afraid that release wouldn't make any difference. Perhaps her fate was to live a tragic life and die a tragic death. To have the want, she must risk the possibility that her worst nightmares could also be realized.

Only a relic such as her family's greatest treasure could possibly hold such implications. The locket that rested right over her heart poisoned it. Like a deadly infection, or a fruit rotting, it started in a small place, deep inside her chest. Soon it spread to her entire body, venom clouding her emotions and actions. The curse tightened its grip on her until she was but an unwilling servent forced to cater to its every whim. Despair ruled her. She was Darkness's minion. She had nothing left to lose.

When the locket passed into Burke's hands, it was like a great burden had been lifted off of her. Merope felt like dancing from the sheer bliss of it. She knew she had to hide the joy that overwhelmed her, but not even Caractus Burke, master of trickery, could detect her pleasure, not in his own moment of triumph.

* * *

Burke felt an overpowering sense of hopelessness while he held the locket in his grasp, but his own greed soon overruled any other emotions in his mind. This little girl was under his finger now! He had her right where he wanted her, willing to accept a ruthless bargain without a word of complaint.

She readily agreed to his price, even more rapidly than he expected. She must have literally been starving; even the most pitiful of human beings had to have some idea of the worth of this object. Burke returned to his earlier hypothesis: his new customer wasn't quite right in the head. He passed over the money that he owed her, and in a moment of sentimentality, added an extra Galleon to the mix.

She deserved a good meal.

END OF PROLOGUE

* * *

I'm going to try to have Chapter Three up by the end of the weekend. Reviews encourage me to write faster!

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	3. The Birth of the Devil

AN: This is really only the first part of this chapter. My parents have decided to restrict my computer time on week-ends, so I have to write what I can and get it up here. I did promise a new chapter by Monday, though. Some of this chapter's material is a little mature for the rating I have it set at right now, but I don't think it warrents a 'T' just yet. This is my first foray out of the material given in the book. I kind of break off from the canon plot to fit the AU story. It can be a little frightening to do this for the first time, so I want to know what you guys think. And trust me, it will get better. I have so many ideas in my head.

Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me. Absolutely none. No sue-age. Haha. Sewage. Get it?

Happy reading!

* * *

The Waning Flower Chapter Three: Birth of the Devil

For a few cold nights after selling the locket, Merope wandered the streets of London, looking halfheartedly for a place to stay. She slept on benches and in gutters, not caring as her robes grew more and more shabby and vile. Her few Galleons allowed her a bowl of soup daily, but she was fast running out of money. Some small glow-a trace of happiness, perhaps-filled her hollow cheeks. She was slowly regaining her life.

It was December Thirty-First, New Year's Eve, and she was back in Muggle London. There was no reason to remain in the magical world. She could easily exist here with no questions asked. Early in the afternoon, she felt the first of the labor pains. Her child was long overdue, at least a week and a half. Merope's stomach was oddly distended, much more than what would be expected for a pregnant mother. Perhaps she held the devil itself inside of her, she mused. After all, it was the beginning of the New Year. It was surely an omen-filled time.

Her first contraction hit as she stepped on to the street during a lull in the traffic. For a split second, she was aware of the pain, but separate from it. She had a vague understanding of how severe this was, too severe, before she lost all cohesion. In the middle of the London road, she sank to her knees, clutching her abdomen. Her high keens didn't turn the head of a single passerby. This was a hard, unfeeling city.

The one remaining Galleon she still had fell out of her pocket and clinked as it hit the ground. The sound was somehow ominous, reminding her that if she didn't move, she would surely meet death here, with her unborn child. The coin's fall was a barely audible noise, but it awakened something in Merope, a kind of fierce animalistic determination. She would make it through this. If not for herself, than for Tom's child.

She managed to drag herself to the walkway nearest her, before collapsing. No one stopped to help her, so she forced to ride out the pains as they hit her. This was so unnatural. Even Merope knew that this could not be a normal child. It was fighting its way out of her, determined to be rid of her prison-like womb.

For hours she thrashed about, desperate for some means of relief. Afternoon progressed to night, but still no one stopped to help her. Snow began to fall. The weather conditions quickly turned hostile as the sun set.

Merope's assuredness that both she and her child would make it through the night vanished. The beginnings of frostbite were visible on her fingers and toes. Any denizen of the city able to flee that quickly done so.

She could feel her mind beginning to slip, the edge of reality that had kept her imprisoned on Earth was abandoning her. As her lucidity left her, she strained to see the figure emerging from the shadows. Somehow it looked familiar...

"Tom," she croaked, attempting to reach out a hand to him.

_"Merope, you must live!"_ the figure cried. It was Tom. Her beloved husband had returned to her in her time of need. How could he have found her here, though? She felt like shouting out her relief to him, but her lips were turning blue. She could barely move them.

The pain, oddly enough, was gone. She seemed to be watching her struggling pregnant figure from above. Everything was blurry now. Like she was drifting off to sleep. No pain could possibly touch her here.

_"Merope, you can't go! You must follow me. I can rescue you!"_

The Merope on the ground below reached out to him, but her fingers passed through the flesh that was now silver mist. She couldn't speak anymore, even though she tried. Air whistled through lips that would soon never take another breath.

The ethereal apparition of Tom was distraught, wringing its hands and weeping over her body. Merope tried to smile at him, letting the last ghost of breath trail from her lips. _Tom, I love you._

* * *

"Doctor Rubinson, I think she's wakin' up!"

Cold.

"Stop makin' that infernal racket, Nettie! The doctor is checkin' on little Danny with the infection. You leave that poor man be!"

She didn't think she was in the snow anymore. She was...on a bed?

"Sorry, Miz Cole!"

She heard the footsteps of the girl treading lightly on the floor, inching toward her bed. Nimble fingers placed a warm compress on her forehead. Merope couldn't open her eyes; the strain was too much to handle.

"You're gonna be jus' fine, ma'am. Doc Rubinson fixed you up real good. We all thought you was a goner, but you made it jus' fine. Baby's okay, too. Jus' relax. I get the doctor in here soon for you, ma'am.

Merope drifted off again.

* * *

Gentle hands shook her awake after a while. Merope found herself in a much better condition than before. Her skin was no longer freezing, and she could feel her face.

And she was actually able to open her eyes. A kindly-looking doctor was leaning over her. He reminded her of a loving grandfather, with his white hair and spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose.

"Hello, my dear," he whispered to her, cleary trying not to upset her. She wondered what kind of state she had been in when she arrived. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember arriving at all.

"What-," she choked out, her throat clogged with phlegm.

"Shh, don't exert yourself. You wandered in here around midnight, looking like you were possessed. The second you crossed the threshold, you collapsed. It's a miracle you managed to walk at all, considering the child-," he stopped abruptly. "Well, never mind the baby just yet. Mrs. Cole sent a messenger for me when you arrived. It took all three of her girls on staff duty last night to drag you to this room

"I came as soon as I could. You were bleeding profusely, and the child was nearly delivered. It was a messy birth; I'm surprised you managed to survive it. The shock should have killed you. Your blood loss was extreme. After the delivery, I patched you up as best I could. I believe you are in very little danger of dying now.

"If you don't have any questions, I'm going to have to leave. I'll check in with you in a bit. Then we'll go over the more important details. Try to rest."

Merope started to ask what could be more important than what he had just told her, but the doctor was already gone.

* * *

Time passed slowly while she waited for Doctor Rubinson to return. Nettie, Mrs. Cole's assistant, came in to talk to her, sensing her boredom.

"Why haven't I been able to see my baby yet?" was the first question posed to the young teenager. It had suddenly dawned on her that this was could not be normal protocol, the newborn being sequestered.

Nettie began to fidget in the chair that she had pulled up. "Well, it ain't my place to say anything, ma'am. Doc Rubinson'll have to tell you."

At these words, Merope knew that something must be horribly wrong with her baby. A singular tear rolled down her cheek.

"Aw, marm, don' cry. It's just a superstition, really. I don't even know much about it, to tell the truth. If you really wanted to know, I could call in old Matilda. She's seen everything befo'."

While Nettie went to fetch Matilda, Merope wondered how bad the problem could be. Doctor Rubinson and Nettie had told her the baby was alright. Well, at least that it was living. What else could possibly be this serious?

* * *

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